


Fascination

by writtenbyizzy (BakerStreetMuse)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Empathy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is Manly af, I'm So Hard, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Season 1, Shower Sex, Sugar Daddy Hannibal, Tenderness, Will is Aroused, commission, so much porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerStreetMuse/pseuds/writtenbyizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter will settle for nothing less than a complete seduction of Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlasticBling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasticBling/gifts).



> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will absorbs, reflects, and amplifies emotion and intention like a piece of jagged crystal. His own emotions can become indistinguishable from the emotions of those around him, twisting and turning and pouring through him, knocking around his insides and leaving him adrift and in disarray. 

The want he feels as he steps into Hannibal Lecter’s office, blinding and breathtaking, feels like its enough to send him crashing to the ground. He pauses in the doorway, eyes fixed on the floor, unable to sort out what is his, and what he does not dare to dream might not be. 

“Good evening, Will.” Says Hannibal. It is even and calm, borderline glacial. Will dismisses the thought that such a fire could ever burn beneath such a tranquil exterior. He dismisses what he had felt, even as his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears, caught between fight and flight, elated and terrified and not entirely unable to shake the feeling that he is prey. 

“H-hello, Dr. Lecter.” His throat clicks, he distinctly avoids looking directly at the other man as he settles in a chair across from him. Will catches the sight of his gleaming shoe, his crossed legs revealing slips of pale blue sock, which disappear beneath the exquisite lines of well-tailored pants in a pattern Will cannot even begin to describe, and averts his attention to the floor. 

“You look--” 

“I know, I look like hell.” Will interrupts. “Not exactly breaking news, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal’s lip twitches in the vague approximation of a smile, frustrated and fond. Will watches that quirk of his mouth, only to be abruptly derailed by the small flashes of silver, glinting around that sensuous mouth in the low light. Will follows, what he knows logically is only five o’clock shadow, which all men have, from the stark lines of Hannibal’s jaw to the hollows beneath his cheekbones. 

It is not so different from his own, Will logically knows, only more grey. This is entirely fitting, as the man before him is older than he. Will finds himself wondering just how much older. He clears his throat, clasps and unclasps his hands, and begins to pick at the upholstery before chastising himself. He touches his own facial hair, wondering at the roughness of Hannibal’s own before abruptly stopping himself. 

“A difficult case?” Asks Hannibal, and with those three words Will’s blood runs cold with horror. Hannibal knows that a case is not the source of his distress, his tone of voice betrays it plainly. It is knowing, it is warm, it is, though Will would not dare to admit to using the word in conjunction with Dr. Lecter, flirtatious. 

Will can’t breathe. His gaze flickers up to Hannibal’s eyes, only briefly, beneath the calm smooth surface of his exacting gaze, something dark and familiar lurks. 

“Unethical, Dr. Lecter.” He admonishes, and then it clicks for him, the burning want he had felt, a thousand little touches, a million allowances, forgivenesses Dr. Lecter does not lend to others, that he has veritably showered him with over the course of their therapy. Will feels terrified. Warmth curls low within him, a betrayal he cannot allow peaceably. “Very unethical.” 

“I cannot say I know what you mean.” Hannibal is lying, plainly and for show with great relish. They both know just what he is doing. When he leans forward his five o’clock shadow catches the light. Will watches as his hands, large and harshly veined clasp in front of him. He thinks of the aching want, the almost animal desire that had burned through him hot and fast as lava down the side of an active volcano. In his mind’s eye those hands have touched. And they have taken. 

“You know how my mind works.” Says Will, acid on his tongue, residual heat burning through him, and skin tellingly alight with a glowing flush. 

Hannibal says nothing, merely watches, waiting for Will to fill the silence, to hang himself with his own rope. When Will simply gets up, and walks out of his office without another word, Hannibal is surprised, and that surprise is tinged with mourning. 

He watches Will’s hips as he leaves. He does not bother to hide it, but allows the hunger to flow through him, knowing that Will feels it as solidly as caress, mirror neurons overworking him into a tizzy. Will telegraphs his acknowledgement of Hannibal’s crude gaze. His shoulders tense as he crosses the threshold, freezes for an instant, and slams the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Later that night, as Will lays in bed, he finds himself tossing and turning, agitated and faintly thrumming with unspent energetic potential. He thinks of the looks, the brushes of hands, the tiny flairs of heat he had conducted over and over again, sparked by Hannibal. He feels overwhelmed and fearful and feverish. He thinks of those knowing dark eyes with a groan. 

He imagines a perfect universe, where Hannibal taking advantage of him was irrelevant, where the seeds planted can flower and bloom. He thinks of Hannibal’s desk, the papers on it flying carelessly to the floor beneath him as he is pressed against it, roughly lifted onto it as if he weighs nothing at all by dark, avaricious hands. 

Will’s cock twitches. 

“Fuck.” He groans. That stubble, quintessentially masculine, salt and pepper and sharp as teeth scrapes against his clean-shaven jaw. He feels bruises being pressed into his hips, nails digging into his skin. He presses against them as jagged teeth bite into his flesh again and again and again, hot tongue teasing him. It’s a blissful agony. 

Will pulls his own cock out of his shorts, flushed and dripping. He begins to stroke himself, spreading slick precum from head to root. He palms his balls with a low groan. 

As heat pools in his belly Will finds himself wondering less and less which pieces of this overwhelming lust belong to Hannibal and which belong to himself. He can feel Hannibal in control, moving him, positioning him where he wants him to be, roughly tossing him here and there, every ounce of his strength focused on taking him apart. 

He feels waif-like, merely pray, in his imaginings he feels Hannibal hard and aching through his pants, impossibly large and twitching as he ruts against him. 

“Please!” Will whines as he continues to stroke himself faster and faster, the low burn building and building. His balls throb pleasantly as Hannibal grunts low and masculine in his ear, abandoned and shameless and it occurs to Will that he needs him inside him. 

Using only the precum that has dripped down his cock, Will takes a finger and circles his hole, barely breaching, just circling, teasing, the worn pad of his finger ghosting across his sensitive skin. 

That is how Will cums, with a harrowing wail and the very tip of his finger inside himself. Semen coats his stomach and his chest heaves. He bites his lip with a small, shame-tinged groan. The world returns to him in pieces: the sweat soaked sheet beneath him, the semen drying on his stomach, the dogs scattered about, uncaring and oblivious of what he has done and why. They don't know what he still wants to do. 

Will peels himself off the bed and staggers to the shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will almost considers skipping out on their next appointment. Instead he finds himself in front of his mirror, appraising himself piece by piece, as if preparing for the inevitable, which he dare not admit, even as he primps and preens to the meager extent he assumes must be usual. 

He steps into the shower, fancying himself a ritual sacrifice being purified for the pleasure of a dark god, and chastises himself as his cock twitches beneath the spray. He angrily scrubs himself, passive aggression turning quickly to flagellation, his raw skin a florid pink. He thinks of masturbating, perhaps just to take the edge off, and cannot bring himself to. He knows of Hannibal’s elevated olfactory sense, and wonders if the man might be able to smell it on him. 

Will dresses quickly, carelessly, he figures his clothing does not matter much one way or the other. The want he had felt, which even as he sits alone or walks the dogs occasionally creeps over him with a desperate ache and holds him in thrall, was purely animal, distinctly terrifying, consuming and thoughtless, and had little to with his wardrobe. 

Will feeds his dogs and leaves his house. He feels electric and terrified. He hardly remembers getting into his car, and snaps to halfway to Hannibal’s. Will feels as if the man is with him even now, his eyes burning holes through his skin. He swallows. 

All day Hannibal has kept his mind on his patients, regardless of how banal. Saving Will for last has the benefit of keeping him on task throughout the day, his final appointment a well deserved reward, but also it throws the general lack of intelligent conversation with others into stark relief. Piecing together the bits of his other patients, deciding whether to help or harm or in which game to engage them used to be a treasured pastime. Now it is all the same, the moments dragging by until he can see his favorite patient. 

“....And anyway, sometimes I think that if maybe they’d had me on board the titanic I could have warned them, Dr. Lecter. I could have! Had I known that never would have happened!” 

Hannibal nods, politely interested, his mask free of the disinterest he feels, as Franklyn Froideveaux continues to tell him all about the overwhelming guilt he feels for not being able to stop a boat accident which occurred decades and decades before his birth. Hannibal’s mind drifts to Will. While there is a possibility that he might not arrive at all, this is unthinkable to Hannibal. He refocuses on Franklyn. 

“...Because, I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem fair that nobody was able to warn them and I feel like it should have been me. I could have been the one to do it! I could have saved them all...” 

Hannibal notes their time coming to a swift close. His clock strikes the hour. 

“...And I know it must sound crazy to you but-” 

“I hate to interrupt you, Franklyn, but that is all the time we have for today.” 

Franklyn stops mid sentence, wide eyed and unsure, with a look as if the floor has just been pulled out from beneath him. 

“Oh. Ok, I’m sorry.” Franklyn apologizes. Hannibal regards him with a politely detached smile. 

“Now Franklyn, we have talked about excessive apologizing before.” Hannibal says as he hands him his coat and guides him to the door. 

“I know, I’m sor--” Franklyn stops, looking horrified and ashamed as he lingers in the doorway. 

“It is alright, Franklyn. Progress does not happen overnight. Now if you would be so kind as to excuse me I have to prepare for my next...” Hannibal trails off as he hears the door to his office open. He recognizes the scent and gait. In it’s presence he softens minutely, though only just. “...patient.” 

Though Franklyn is unsure of precisely what, he can recognize in Hannibal’s tone something he has never heard before. He looks suspiciously toward the interloper, a man who seems familiar and yet he cannot place. 

“Good evening, Will.” Says Hannibal as he stands in the doorway. Franklyn notes how the man, Will, is utterly indifferent to the doctor’s regard. He looks pale and shaken and terrified. The envy which had begun to spill sour in Franklyn’s mind dissipates as quickly as it had begun to take shape. Franklyn knows he is looking at a man infinitely more troubled than himself. 

“Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.” Says Franklyn, dismissing himself, hoping to give this strange and sullen man all the time and space he needs. He does not even wait for his psychiatrist to reply before leaving. 

Will feels Franklyn’s pity like a slap across the face. He scowls. 

“Come in, Will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Confronted with Hannibal in the flesh for the first time in a week, Will feels as if he wears his indiscretion like a shroud, his crude fantasies telegraphed and apparent. He can feel his cock slick in his fist and Hannibal’s name in his mouth like a prayer. 

“Dr. Lecter.” He says stiffly, opting to wander about aimlessly rather than sit in the chair across from Hannibal’s. He swears the two chairs come closer and closer to one another every week. He wonders if he lets it go and watches it happen, in a matter of weeks he will find their knees knocking together as if by gravity alone. He feels the phantom sparks of the imagined contact with a visceral, physical pleasure. 

“How are you feeling today, Will?” 

Will can’t help shake the feeling that the other man already knows exactly how he feels. He knows what he wants. He knows what he has done. 

“Why are you doing this?” Will asks. When the man moves a step closer he takes a step back, feeling distinctly like pray. 

“You will have to be more specific.” 

Will paces, agitated and aimless. Hannibal follows him with his eyes, impassive and fond. If Will had to describe it he would say the man looks distinctly charmed. He scoffs at himself, unable to imagine a single person in all the world being charmed by him. By conventional standards he knows he is lacking, and in the presence of a man as cultured and refined as Dr Lecter he is a veritable famine of taste. He bristles in the silence Hannibal creates and leaves him to stew inside. 

“Last week when I stepped into your office I felt...” Will can’t bring himself to say it. To acknowledge it. He knows to do so will give this thing life, cement the experience in the concrete, and Will doubts he will survive doing so. He thinks of the depthless hunger, the darkness, the phantom feeling of stubble against his chest, against his thighs, large hands on his hips. That desire had bled from Hannibal as if from a fresh wound, metallic and raw and dripping. 

Will breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, assailed by doubts. What if he had misread something? What if he had been wrong? What if he had merely picked up the remnants of something that had happened before he had arrived, or Dr. Lecter’s mind had been on something else entirely? 

The silence Dr Lecter maintains scrapes against him like a rusty knife. Will tries to pick the proper word out of a thousand and can’t think of a good way to put it. The thought pours from him involuntarily in a flood of desperate frustration. 

“I felt you.” 

Hannibal’s eyes darken. Will imagines his pulse spiking, the flood of natural chemicals filling him, he can see it happening before him. He swallows, looking away. 

“I must confess...” Hannibal begins and Will feels him step forward before he does, the presence preceding him thick and heavy. As he steps closer Will fights the urge to flee and allow himself to be pulled closer. Hannibal steps toward him with magnetic gravitas, purposeful and dangerous, his intentions telegraphed. It wraps around Will entirely, roots him in the moment, frozen like an insect trapped in sap. Will wonders if he too will turn to amber in the end. 

“I must confess, Will...” Hannibal repeats and Will returns to the moment with a snap, Hannibal suddenly near him. Will’s gaze darts about his eyes feverishly, wanting to capture and flee. Hannibal reaches for him, large hand drawing closer to his jaw. Will finds himself turning toward it in anticipation, opening himself to the gesture before he can think to stop. 

When Hannibal’s hand drops away instead of touching, Will feels the ghost of his thick fingered hand like a slap across the face. “I was not prepared.” 

Hannibal’s voice is low and measured, it cracks across the scant space between them like lightning. 

“Prepared?” Will questions, skeptical and affronted, sensation sweeping through him recklessly and leaving him raw. The denial of the touch he had been craving, and anticipating, has thrown his own longings into stark relief. Will knows he is being played. He crosses his arms. “You heard me come in. I was scheduled. You knew I was coming, Dr Lecter.” 

Will returns to safety, putting a chair between them. Hannibal watches him, and Will knows to anyone else he would appear collected and calm, but now that Will has tasted of his bottomless and voracious fascination he can feel it beneath every measured gesture and glacial barely-noticeable facial expression. He tries to shake it and cannot. 

“Unless you’re trying to say that you were overwhelmed by all this?” Will scoffs, sarcasm familiar and comforting, even as he senses something in Hannibal change, something deep and dangerous. He gestures toward himself derisively. Will knows he has found nerve, and he can’t help but try to scrape it raw. His laugh is low and bitter and sardonic. He watches as Hannibal’s entire frame tenses, muscle by muscle. Will can feel it even through the many layers of his resplendently tailored clothing. His eyes trace from his broad shoulders to tapered waist. 

This time when Hannibal comes upon him Will cannot chase away the thought that his neck might be snapped. He bares his throat reflexively, before he’s thought about it. Hannibal’s intake of breath stirs something in Will, fight and flight impulses wracking him and leaving him little more than a cornered animal in the presence of a true predator. 

Stripped of sarcasm and acerbic wit, his pessimism and doubt clinking against the floor of Hannibal Lecter’s office like layer upon layer of worn armor, Will Graham shudders as he is touched for the first time in years. 

Hannibal’s hands, broad and thick and strong, ghost along the curve of his jaw, delicate and barely there. Will leans into it instinctively, turning the soft touch into a full contact stroke. Will feels the larger man’s body fold into him as cups his jaw. A small step is all it takes. Will can the heat radiating from Hannibal’s body seeping into his bones. He quivers, tight and alive with the incredible energy thrumming through him. 

Hannibal seems physically pulled toward him, caught unaware in an immense gravitational pull. Will watches through his lashes, terrified and elated, as Hannibal moves toward him. Will can almost taste the plush heat of his sinful mouth as it moves ever closer to his, so dreadfully near that Will quakes in anticipation of the kiss he can hardly believe he deserves. 

As Hannibal’s lips hover above his own, the older man’s need bleeding from him in overwhelming waves, Will breaks spectacularly. 

“Fuck it.” He whispers, and before Hannibal’s surprised inhale can turn into a reproach Will latches onto his bottom lip with vehemence, sucking and biting as Hannibal’s hands snake around his waist. The span of his hands nearly overtakes his slender frame, and Will groans. The hard lines of Hannibal’s body feel like pure power as he rakes his hands lower and lower. 

Hannibal takes advantage of the man’s open mouth to begin to tease him with his tongue. Will sucks on it eagerly, his noises of pleasure displacing the office’s thick silence. When Hannibal’s hands stop at his lower back, the very tips of his fingers just barely crossing the boundary set by the top of his pants, Will quietly mourns and takes it upon himself to press the length of his body against Hannibal’s. He finds he fits there and takes stock of what he can feel of the older man’s hard musculature with a small appreciative noise of delight. 

Before he realizes what has happened a rough hand has pulled his head back, fully exposing the length of his neck. Will luxuriates in the rough treatment, his body humming with dangerous delight at being made to move. He feels the strength in Hannibal’s grasp, scalp tingling where his hair had been pulled and remains tightly grasped. Will fights for breath. 

“Oh god.” Will thinks he might die as Hannibal licks a long stripe from the hollow of his throat to the thick flesh of his ear. His body burns as the man traces the wet line with his breath, raising gooseflesh beneath gentle puffs of air. When Hannibal takes to his pulse point, latches on, and sucks, Will grasps onto Hannibal for dear life, and finds a muscular leg pressed between his own. 

Will shakes in Hannibal’s arms as he is kissed and bitten and sucked, his nerves singing in pleasure and pain as sharp teeth nip at his sensitive skin. He shifts and feels Hannibal’s erection, thick and hard against his hip. Will’s eyes roll back into his head as he experimentally rubs against it and feels Hannibal’s fingertips grasp into his hips as his teeth sink savagely into his throat. 

Will ruts harder. 

As Hannibal’s leg comes into contact with his own erection, he becomes aware of how hard he is, how he aches, and how he throbs, in the space of a single breathtaking moment. 

“Dr Lecter, please...” Will sighs on a labored breath, asking for nothing in particular, but more sensation, more agony, more contact, more aching pleasure.   
Hannibal delivers. He presses the heel of his hand against Will’s aching erection, and Will only rocks against him three times before he comes. He winds his arms around Hannibal’s neck and clings as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, blissful and wrung out and utterly spent. 

When Hannibal leans forward to kiss him Will greedily tastes his lips, their tongues softly teasing as their lips tangle, languid and with natural ease. Their languorous and slow kissing is only interrupted when Will feels the wet head of Hannibal’s thick erection poking against his hip. He looks down and sees the dark stain on Hannibal’s perfectly tailored pants, the ridge of his thick cock distorts the pattern, and Will marvels at the apparent length and thickness of it. Hannibal is so quintessentially masculine, and being confronted with it so undeniably satisfies something within Will that he could not begin to articulate. 

Will cups Hannibal’s cock in his hand, through the fabric of his pants. Hannibal’s sharp inhale prompts him to apply pressure, gently at first and then harder and harder as Hannibal growls. 

“Christ.” Will bites out as he continues to stroke and Hannibal leans against him, shoulder to shoulder. Will watches, hypnotized, as the muscles in his neck strain and his chest heaves. He looks at Hannibal’s hair, which has begun to come free from its slick hold, and marvels at the man, disheveled and coming apart at the seams in his hands. 

Will feels powerful and drunk and desirable. He feels Hannibal’s nose against his throat, breathing him in avariciously as his body shakes. Will wonders what he smells like to Hannibal as he continues to palm him, only stopping when Hannibal grabs him and cums with a groan, the stain on his ridiculous pants growing as he slumps against Will and peppers all the skin he can reach with kisses. 

The pair sway, wrapped around each other, slick with sweat and cum and still fully dressed. They breathe in tandem. 

When Will clears his throat, as if to speak and break the spell, Hannibal distracts him with a soft kiss. He cards his fingers through his hair and Will melts into the gentle touches, his body thrumming low and warm with pleasure. 

Their lips separate with a soft pop and Will allows himself to be held in the quiet for only a moment. He revels in the feel of strong arms around him, holding him close. 

“I’m not looking forward to driving home in these pants.” Will says, but his effort to sound casual and unaffected is belied entirely by the cracking of his utterly wrecked voice. His words are roughened by post-orgasmic bliss. 

“You needn’t worry about that.” Hannibal answers, warm breath tickling his ear, and Will shivers. 

“Oh?” 

“My home is a ten minute drive away.” Hannibal offers and Will breathes. Hannibal has invited him to various dinner parties ever since they had begun their rather unorthodox therapy, and Will has always refused. Even with Hannibal’s hands on his skin, and body enveloping his in protective warmth, he cannot imagine himself in the context of the man’s life outside of his office. 

“We can wash our clothes there.” Hannibal offers. Will’s visceral response is to say no, to demand a space for himself, and carve out a safe distance between them and whatever this is and will become. The look in Hannibal’s eyes, as vulnerable as he has ever seen him, so soft that Will wonders if it is even real, stops him in his tracks. 

Will nods and stands still as Hannibal disentangles himself from him. He feels the loss of the man’s physical proximity like a physical pain. Hannibal turns and walks out of his office and Will follows close behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

“...jesus fucking goddamn christ...” Will repeats to himself over and over again as he follows behind Hannibal, who seems to be simultaneously moving at a frantic speed and an irritating crawl. Will grits his teeth as they come to a stop at a red light. His pants are sticking to his thighs. He can barely stand to sit. He grits his teeth. 

Part of Will is tempted to speed away, run back to Wolf Trap and boil himself in the tub while cursing profusely. When the light turns green and Hannibal makes a left he follows. His skin feels tight and strange. He is overcome by the hugely irrational feeling that everyone he passes knows what he has done, and what he still wants to, and ultimately will, do. 

The potentiality ruthlessly cracked open and presented to him hangs over his head. It seems it should be fogging up the windshield, and making the road as slick and treacherous as his thoughts. 

He knows that Hannibal had not been as rough with him as he truly wanted to be. He had used under a quarter of his strength and his power. Will had felt it in the tenseness of his arms, the potential unspent in his large his hands as they sought to possess him, ruthless hunger barely kept in check. 

Will shivers. He wants more. 

He wants that control to shatter and that veneer to break. He looks in front of him to glimpse what he can of Hannibal through the back window of his car. He feels humbled and awed at witnessing the truth of him, a wild thing impeccably buttoned into a well-tailored suit. 

He wants more desperately. He wonders what this visit to Hannibal’s house will yield, even as he already knows. Though he cannot being himself to admit it, believe it, or consider it in conjunction with himself, he knows exactly what Hannibal wants from. He has felt the depths of his hunger and his desire, so he believes. 

As he pulls into Hannibal’s driveway behind him it occurs to Will that he is captivated by the sway of his hips as he exits his car and waits for him by the door. He wants to see every last inch of all of that muscle he had felt beneath layers of cloth. That strength he had felt sends a spark through him. 

Will has rarely found himself attracted to men in any capacity, whether they are particularly masculine or not. The sheer thought of Hannibal, strong and commanding, the stubble along his jaw scraping against his skin, nearly causes his eyes to cross as he gets out of his car and walks the the winding path across Hannibal’s green and exquisitely manicured lawn to his front door. 

He passes Hannibal, forced to brush against him as he enters. He hears Hannibal’s sharp inhale as his intake of breath scrapes across his sensitive neck. He shivers. 

“Dr Lec-” He begins and his question is cut short when Hannibal insinuates a hand between his shoulder blades. 

Will feels Hannibal’s desire thick and heavy against his skin. He watches those dark eyes zero in on his mouth and before he can process, refute, or question it he’s drawn in. Full lips are pressed against his own and he groans, opening his kiss-bitten and swollen lips to be further ravaged. When Hannibal pulls away from him he feels cold and shaken with loss. 

“Will,” Hannibal begins and hearing his usually controlled voice cracked open and raw as ripe fruit makes something deep within Will sing. He reaches for him and stops, fingers hovering above his arms in the air, twitching and poised on the brink of the sensation they crave. Hannibal clears his throat. “We should wash.” He says. 

Will nods in agreement, his own pants and underwear rather uncomfortably sticking to him from their previous tryst in Hannibal’s office. The gravity of what they have done, the carnal future mapped within Hannibal's dark eyes strikes will with cosmic horror. The meaning which runs around and through it simultaneously escapes and gores him. He feels paralyzed. 

“Allow me.” Says Hannibal and before he has realized what is happening Hannibal is pressing kisses against his fingers, his palms, his wrists. Each press of his lips sends tendrils of warm fire licking the length of Will’s skin. 

“Allow you what?” Will barely manages to ask. He feels breathless and adrift on sensation, rooted so helplessly to Hannibal in this moment that he can barely begin to think. 

“To take care of you.” Hannibal simply answers and Will releases a breath he had not realized he had been holding. He feels his heart stutter in his chest and blood bloom in his cheeks, all the way down his neck to his chest. As Hannibal resumes kissing his hands he tries to smother his grin but can’t. Hannibal returns his vibrant, bashful little smile with a boyish grin that makes Will’s heart skip a beat. 

“Ok.” He says and when Hannibal takes his hand and leads him up the stairs Will follows behind him, terror replaced with candy-sweet elation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Hannibal’s shower is large and crystalline and gleaming with multiple shining steel heads and plenty of room for two. He has a small cherrywood armoire of bath products, most of which Will cannot even begin to name, which he chooses from and sets in the shower before returning his attention back to Will, who stands idly and awkwardly by the toilet. He shifts from foot to foot, looking suspiciously at the finery which surrounds him. 

Hannibal soothes and distracts him with a kiss. He winds one of his curls gently around his finger with one hand and begins to unbutton his shirt with the other. Will’s eyes widen and he tenses, but he does nothing to stop him as Hannibal bites his lip and pulls his entire body closer by it. Will opens to him, allowing himself to be undressed piece by piece as his twitchy hands settle on Hannibal’s waist. 

When Hannibal kneels before him his breath catches and he can hardly manage to meet his eyes. Will’s hands hang listlessly by his side as Hannibal slowly nudges his left foot until he lifts it. He unties his brown leather boot and slides it off, only to remove his sock. Hannibal gently then does the same to his right foot, only to kneel up and place his hands on his belt. Will's nervous feet tap against the cold tile, blue and ivory and slender. 

“I-I can do that.” Will says and Hannibal regards him knowingly, his thumbs rubbing circles into his hips through the fabric. 

“Do you want me to stop, Will?” 

Will looks at Hannibal, ruffled hair and impeccable suit, on his knees before him, dark eyes like burnt amber in the light, hands like brands searing through his clothing. 

Will shakes his head. Hannibal smiles and undoes his belt. He unbuttons and unzips Will’s pants and they fall straight to the ground with a metallic clunk and rustle of cloth. 

“We must do better, Will.” 

“Better?” Will asks and Hannibal gently slides his boxer-briefs down his coltish legs. He nudges one of Will’s feet and he steps out of them obligingly. 

“Much better.” Hannibal intones. “You require either meals regular enough to fit into these clothes...” 

Will’s flush creeps down his chest as Hannibal massages his hip bones with clear intention. 

“...or an entirely new wardrobe, tailored to fit you.” 

Will can hardly think as those large hands scrape down his thighs, nails rubbing his sparse hair against the grain as they slide along his skin. 

“Which will it be, Will?” 

“D-Dr. Lecter I...” Will begins, delighted and bashful grin sitting awkwardly on a face unused to smiling. Hannibal rises from the floor and watches him, expectantly waiting for a response. Will merely tilts his head back and parts his lips, silently inviting Hannibal to take a kiss from him. Hannibal takes in his soft posture with a small growl and bends into him, nipping at his lips. 

“Oh Will,” Hannibal begins between nips, which Will obligingly curves his entire body into, basking like a flower reaching toward the light. “What a tempting thing you are.” 

Will has never considered himself to be anything other than repellent on bad days, and a sort of bodiless miasma hovering around awash in unwelcome emotion on better ones. He shakes his head, causing one of Hannibal’s kisses to brush his cheek. 

“You can try to distract me all you like.” Hannibal says and his hands trace the flush from Will’s neck all the way to his flat pink nipples. “I will remember to drape you in diamonds eventually.” 

Will’s laugh is low and soft and eventually breaks into a wry cackle. He puts his hands on Hannibal’s ridiculous tie and begins to undo it. 

“You’re so pretentious, Dr Lecter.” Will says as he slips the tie free. It is mocking, but it is also immeasurably fond. Hannibal stalls at the edge of offense and shock, unsure of what to do after having his firm control of the situation so entirely derailed. Will continues to unbutton him. His waistcoat joins his tie on the bathroom floor. 

“Come soap me up.” Will beckons as he steps into Hannibal’s large shower and begins to mess with the handles. Will can’t help but question his own unattractiveness, as Hannibal gets undressed faster than any person ought to be able to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Hannibal watches with something beyond fondness and beyond delight as the warm shower water cascades down Will and flattens his unruly curls. Hannibal reaches forward and brushes them out of his eyes. The slicked back hair reveals the sharply contoured lines and plains of Will’s exquisite face. 

“Beautiful.” Hannibal breathes and Will’s blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck to his chest, flushed down to the soft pink of his nipples as water runs down his skin in rivulets. “Let me take care of you.” He says and Will nods. He watches as Hannibal grabs a bottle of something black with red lettering he can’t read from the bottom shelf of his extensive shower armoire of beauty products. 

“Is that Russian?” Will asks as Hannibal squirts a quarter sized amount onto his hands. The stuff is grey blue and prismatic. It glints like mica when the light catches it. 

“Yes.” Says Hannibal. “Some of the ingredients in this shampoo are not legal in the United States.” 

Will looks as if he might protest, but falls silent as Hannibal starts to massage it into his scalp with deft fingers. 

“How did you get it?” He asks, after a long moment of basking under Hannibal’s tender ministrations. 

“I was in Kiev last year. I acquired a few things.” 

“I bet you did.” Says Will as he is guided under the soothing spray. He luxuriates in it. When he comes out Hannibal has a quarter sized amount of something that looks a lot like black oil paint. 

“This is a quail egg conditioner.” Hannibal holds it up and out of the spray so Will can get a good look at it. 

“Why is it black?” 

“If I told you that I would have to kill you.” Hannibal replies before rubbing it between his hands and beginning to apply it to the ends of Will’s sodden curls. This he merely cards through his hair from root to tip. Will sighs into his touch before he is positioned back under the spray. This time as he stands under the water he feels Hannibal press a bar of soap against his skin, starting with his neck and working his way down his chest and along his limbs. 

Will feels fluid beneath the touch, unused to being so thoroughly spoiled. Even as he feels Hannibal apply separate substances to his facial hair and face he does nothing. He hums as he is lavished with attention from head to toe. He risks an eye open beneath the spray for an instant, just to see Hannibal kneeling before him. Arousal burns low in Will’s gut as he watches the man lavish attention on even his feet, lifting each in turn to gently scrub it. 

Will giggles a little as Hannibal’s clever fingers tease the insteps of each of his feet. Hannibal only tortures him a little bit before rising for a kiss. Will gives it to him gladly. They stand holding one another beneath the spray, swaying in a gravity they cannot escape as their skin presses together. Will’s cock twitches. 

“I think you are clean enough.” Hannibal says and turns off the many knobs which control everything from temperature to pressure to kind of water, in his resplendent shower. Will follows him back out into the cool air, only to be swathed and lightly dried by a towel that feels more like a cloud than anything made of cloth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

“Go wait on the bed.” Hannibal says, and after all the kindness he has been shown, Will bites down his desire to argue. He is uncomfortable with all of these displays of wealth, and even more so with the gentle care he has received, these fine things he cannot even begin to imagine relating to his life in any possible way, but in Hannibal’s care he cannot bring himself to outright refuse. 

“Dr. Lecter, are we--” 

“I have a very specific lotion I would like to use on you.” 

“I, uh, lotion?” 

“Yes, Will. My bedroom is the last room on your left. Please.” 

Will does as he is told and exits the bathroom clad only in the celestially soft towel. He takes in what he can of the dimly lit hallway as he follows it to the last of three doors. He opens it and what he finds inside viscerally shocks him, though it meets his expectations. 

Hannibal sleeps in a room with a ceiling like a cathedral, with a chandelier-like light fixture hanging from the center. It is wrought iron and heavily detailed. The bed alone is big enough to host an orgy. All of the wooden furniture is dark and ornate. There are several paintings on the walls, and a sculpture of a distorted woman by one of the large windows. The walls are a deep green and the ceiling is a soft cream. It is sharp, masculine, and elegant. 

If it belonged to anyone other than Hannibal Will would undoubtedly despise it. 

He keeps his towel around him as he sits sits on the edge of the bed, already self-conscious about distorting the room’s crisp and imposing lines. The bed is so large that his feet dangle, ankles knocking, boyish and nervous. He feels as if he’s being swallowed by this opulent and lifeless space. 

When Hannibal enters it transforms entirely. His presence fills the space, making it feel less like a mausoleum and more like a throne room. 

He carries a palm-sized deep purple tub and and what appears to be a small lavender spray bottle with him. Will is momentarily overcome by the complete ridiculousness of this and feels the urge to tell Hannibal to stop. 

These doubts fly from him like a flock of spooked birds as Hannibal sits beside him and pulls him in by the jaw, kissing him soundly. Will feels his strength and desire profoundly and quivers. As Hannibal decisively removes his towel and stokes his skin, there is no room left for argument. He knows he will do whatever Hannibal wants. Give him whatever he wants. 

“These two are quite unique.” Hannibal whispers into his ear as he places them into his hands. Will’s hands close around them and Hannibal’s hands close around his. “They are derived of the centuries old beauty techniques of the geisha.” 

Will remains silent, soaking up Hannibal’s attention as he breathes against his ear and teases it with his plush lips. 

“This oil contains 24 karat gold.” 

Will feels the urge to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the wealthy, who literally spray themselves with gold, but Hannibal’s hand on his thigh keeps him quiet. His incredulity at the absurdity of his backwoods self being sprayed with gold leaves him entirely as Hannibal sucks a kiss against his throat. 

“Lay back, Will.” He says and Will does as he is told. He lays still as Hannibal covers his entire front with moisturizer. He keens as Hannibal rubs it into his skin. He feels his cock start to harden. Hannibal rubs him from neck to toe, rubbing the warm, softly scented lotion into his skin. He presses a kiss to the very tip of Will’s cock and it jumps beneath his wicked mouth. Will gasps. 

“Turn over, Will.” Hannibal says softly and Will does as he’s told. He lays on his front, languid with the exception of his hips, which are canted to prevent his cock from rubbing against Hannibal’s silken bedspread. 

Hannibal’s clever fingers start at his neck, and turn him to water even as they pull him tighter. By the time Hannibal reaches his plush bottom, rosy hole nearly exposed by the tilt of his hips, he is rutting shamelessly against the bedspread with languid little pushes. 

Hannibal watches as he humps against it, avariciously watching the play of his skin and muscle, watching as his hole flutters. 

He slides a moisturized hand between Will’s cheeks, and circles his entrance with a single finger. Will freezes entirely. 

“D-Dr Lecter I--oooh.” Will’s apprehension is cut short as he finds kisses peppered from his spine to his hole, and a wicked tongue also tracing his rim with devastating flicks. Before he can think about it he’s pressed up on his knees just enough to allow Hannibal better access while he slides against the bedspread just enough to get the barest hint of friction. He writhes between Hannibal’s mouth and the bedspread, wanton and shaking. 

Hannibal circles his hole with his tongue until it flutters desperately. Will writhes. He feels like he’s losing his mind. 

“Dr Lecter, please.” He moans, unabashed and desperate, unsure of what he wants, but just knowing that he wants. 

“Hannibal.” The older man corrects. “My given name is Hannibal, Will.” 

Hannibal grabs both of his ass cheeks and pulls Will backward by them, cruelly knocking him almost entirely off balance. Will groans as his cock brushes the bedspread. The older man sucks a languid kiss against his hole and Will’s cock jumps. 

“Ask me for what you want.” Hannibal says. Will pants hard. “And perhaps I will oblige you.” 

The sudden lack of contact roughly upends Will’s universe. His brain and heart seem to rattle within him. He turns his head around to peer back at Hannibal, flushed and young looking through thick lashes. 

“More.” He begs softly. “More, Hannibal.” He self corrects, the name feeling thick and awkward on his tongue. 

Will watches as Hannibal licks his lips and again buries his face between his legs. Will keens as he is savagely spread apart by lips and tongue and teeth. He moans as he is stretched. He whimpers at the feel of a slick finger inside him. Hannibal’s spit drips between his thighs. He reaches for his cock only to hear Hannibal’s warning growl and freeze halfway there. He places his hand on the bedspread instead. 

“Good boy.” Says Hannibal and before Will can complain he’s delved between his cheeks again. He licks at the wrinkled skin of his hole even as he slides in another finger. Sweat rolls down Will’s back. He shakes. Will finds himself somehow on his hands and knees, thighs spread for Hannibal’s pleasure as he fingers him slow and deep. 

Suddenly Hannibal touches something inside him and he nearly collapses to the bed. He feels boneless and alight with sensation. He nearly screams. Hannibal’s chuckle, low and dark, drags across his naked skin like a riptide. 

“Oh Will,” Hannibal breathes and Will thinks he might die. “It is all new to you, being touched in this way, isn’t it?” 

Will’s yes turns to a high pitched keen as Hannibal continues to finger him deep, scraping against his prostate with highly skilled, thick fingers. 

“I shall be your first in this, then?” Hannibal asks and Will nods, flush with embarrassment and arousal. 

“Should I be gentle, Will?” Hannibal asks and angles his fingers just so, to barely touch the spot Will so needs to be touched. Will sweats and whines with frustration beneath the softer onslaught. When he tries to shove his hips back for more Hannibal removes his fingers entirely, and simply drags them around Will’s puckered entrance. He watches as it twitches, hungry to be filled. 

Hannibal will make him beg for his cock. He can see Will in his mind’s eye, crawling across the floor toward him already, dressed in the finest fabrics, cuts of only his choice, shoes gleaming, wanton and desperate for even just a taste of it. 

“N-no!” Will stutters. Hannibal follows the curve of his back to the hair curling at the back of his neck. 

“Harder, Dr. Lect--Hannibal. Please!” Says Will. He sounds broken and shaken and Hannibal revels in it. When he slides his fingers back in Will’s sigh of relief is the most gratifying noise he’s heard in years. 

He mercilessly punishes Will’s prostate, slamming against it as Will shakes and sobs. He blindly rides his fingers, seeking friction and touch and always more. 

Will gasps as he’s suddenly flipped onto his back, he lifts his hips and spreads his legs automatically, head thrown back and neck bared deliciously. Hannibal nearly salivates as he throws Will’s legs over his shoulders and sinks his fingers in. He takes Will’s prostate between two of his fingers and rubs. Will screams. His cock pulses. 

“I wonder if you can achieve orgasm just like this.” Hannibal says, almost thoughtfully as he continues the sweet torture. Will shakes his head and nods at once, he is lost entirely to sensation. 

Hannibal watches as Will’s balls grow heavy and his cock twitches. He changes his pattern, stroking Will’s insides with maddening twists of his fingers and the string of curses Will lets out tells Hannibal that just maybe he can. Will’s cock begins to steadily leak against his abdomen, filling the valley between his hipbones with seed. 

Will comes with a howl, his body shaking and his head thrown back. Hannibal watches as he finishes, awed and delighted by the aftershocks making the younger man’s body writhe and pulse with energy as he rides out his orgasm. 

Hannibal watches as he collapses, soft, sated, and splattered with his own semen. When he withdraws his fingers Will groans. He watches from afar as the man basks in his own afterglow, beautiful and careless. 

When Will reaches for him, Hannibal cannot help but give him what he wants. He wraps around him, careful not to press too close, so Will does not feel the hard line of his erection.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination updates Mondays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions. 
> 
> Sorry this update is a day late!

Will of course, takes it upon himself to snuggle as close to Hannibal as he can, and in pressing against him feels the hard ridge of his erection through the fabric of his pajama pants. 

He rubs against him languorously, slowly. He can almost hear the older man’s pulse pounding in his ears. 

“Will..” Hannibal begins, warning evident in his voice. Will turns toward him, frown on his face. 

“Don’t you want me to--?” 

“Not tonight.” Hannibal says and Will nearly manages to mask his evident frustration. He suddenly realizes that he’s spent an entire evening being pulled apart by this man, and hasn’t a clue what his cock looks like. It needles at him in the silence. Hannibal watches as the tense thoughts coil within the other man, he watches the play of tension in his back and shoulders, the pallor of his skin luminescent in the dim light. 

“We should get you cleaned up again.” Hannibal says and Will sighs. 

“Please don’t make me get up.” He moans and Hannibal chuckles, deep and pleased. 

“Of course not.” Hannibal rises from the bed and Will definitely does not try to get a glimpse of his erect cock as he moves. He can see almost nothing through the dark, loose fitting pajama bottoms. “I will be right back.” Hannibal pads out of the room and Will sighs, admiring the width of his shoulders and toned musculature of his arms. He slaps himself mentally, suddenly aware of how supremely gay he is being. 

His eyes zero in on Hannibal’s hips and backside before he is hidden inside his bedroom’s attached bathroom. 

Will laughs, low and long and incredulous, and tries to remember the last time he even found a man attractive. 

He can’t particularly remember. While Will could recognize a good looking man when he saw one, and was not one of those men who pretended other men were featureless blobs in order to score higher on some specious heterosexuality test, Will cannot recall ever wanting to sleep with a man. He can’t ever recall jerking off while thinking of a man, or deriving a sexual thrill from his strength and musculature, or avariciously inhaling his scent, or feeling disappointment thick and oily in the pit of his stomach at being denied access to another man’s cock. He can’t recall ever even wanting to particularly see another man’s penis for any reason. 

Will laughs again. As he thinks of Hannibal maneuvering him, demanding of him, pampering him, and arranging him, a low flicker of heat burns through him. Will lets it pass through him with a sigh which turns into a yawn. He hasn’t cum twice in one day for a long time. He feels the weight of all the activity suddenly make him leaden. He sets his phone alarm for a time so ludicrously early that it makes his head spin. He knows he needs to be up early in order to get home and feed the dogs their breakfast before work. 

Will collapses with a groan and throws an arm over his eyes. He feels pleasantly sore and sated in a way he has not felt in years. He is halfway dozing as Hannibal reemerges carrying a damp cloth. 

He kneels beside him on the bed and Will reaches for a kiss. Hannibal gives it to him. He peppers tiny reverent kisses across his mouth, his neck, his chest, and his shoulders as he wipes them both clean. Hannibal tastes of mint. Will is not at all surprised that the incredibly prissy man, with a literal armoire of exotic bath products in his shower, took the time to brush his teeth and probably do god knows what else. 

Will watches as Hannibal discards the dirty cloth into a laundry hamper across the room before settling in beside him. He curls protectively around Will and Will melts into it, somewhat disappointed to note that Hannibal is no longer hard as sinks into the larger man’s body. 

“I have nightmares sometimes.” Will whispers, and it is pained, a confession ripped from him. “Often.” He corrects. 

“You never mentioned them before.” Hannibal points out and Will sighs. 

“They weren’t relevant.” 

Will drags his fingers down Hannibal’s arm, reveling in the hair there, the solid muscle. He stops at Hannibal’s wrist, suddenly shy and reluctant to entwine their fingers. 

“But if we’re going to be...going to be...” 

“In bed together.” Hannibal gently supplies. 

“Yeah.” Will agrees. “If we are going to be than it’s relevant. And you should know what you’re in for.” 

“And what exactly am I in for, Will?” 

Will lays thoughtfully for a moment, stewing in his own anxieties. Hannibal feels him start to tense and begins to rub him from head to hip, lightly scratching and stroking in turn. 

“I wake up in the middle of the night.” Will begins, voice low and soft, his shame sits warm against Hannibal’s skin, the man’s body feels brittle and delicate, his bones like those of a bird. “I scream.” Will feels the hypnotic pull of Hannibal’s heartbeat against him, he thrums in time with it and suddenly his nightmares feel far away and impossible.   
“I sweat.” He says, and the insecure smallness is replaced with a wry self-deprecation. “I fucking sweat a lot, Dr Lecter.” 

“Hannibal, Will.” The older man corrects and Will sighs, unable to shake the habit. He hopes that the image of Dr Lecter, and the image of the man he knows who wants to be called Hannibal will begin to blur. The soft spoken man who breathes quiet power and speaks in allusions and the bestial creature that just tongue-fucked him until he sobbed seem as disparate and strange as Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. 

“And if you scream, or if you shake, or if you sweat, I will still be here.” Says Hannibal, measured and controlled as he reaches for Will’s hand and entwines their fingers. Will feels utterly safe. Utterly kept. “Think on that as you drift off to sleep.” Hannibal says and presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck and the top of his head. 

Will sleeps through the entire night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination generally updates Mondays, but I am traveling for the holidays. Regular updates will resume mid-january 2016. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

In the morning when Will is awakened by the sound of his alarm Hannibal is still curled around him, and he is barely able to extricate himself. He blindly disentangles himself from the bear trap of Hannibal’s embrace and falls to the floor, where his phone had fallen as it vibrated and chimed. 

“It’s 4 am, Will.” Hannibal says and Will wonders how he is only a minute or so off the hour, as the man was buried in blanket and pillows and not looking at any clock. 

“If I want to get home, change, feed the dogs, and get to work on time I’m already cutting it close, honestly.” Will says and he sounds as happy about it as Hannibal feels. 

“I was hoping to serve you breakfast.” Hannibal says and Will can’t help but smile, looking at the disheveled fluff of his bed head and the softness in his eyes. 

“Maybe this weekend?” Will suggests, only to freeze in embarrassed horror halfway through putting his socks on. What if Hannibal does not want him to come back? 

“I will accept this weekend.” Hannibal replies. “I would prefer tomorrow.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” Will admonishes, though it is warm and entirely disingenuous. He finds his pants in the dark and realizes he has put them on backwards. He momentarily debates just leaving them that way. 

“Come over Friday night for dinner.” Hannibal says. “Spend the night if you like.” 

“If I like?” Will says as he re-buttons his shirt. Hannibal feels a keen sense of loss as Will’s naked skin disappears piece by piece. “As if you would not also like.” 

“I do not deny what or when or that which I like.” He replies and sticks an insistent hand out from the blankets to beckon Will closer. Will does so, accepting the hand and allowing himself to be pulled back onto the mattress and into Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal kisses him and he allows it, bending and opening beneath it, basking in the older man’s possessive warmth. 

The spell is broken as Hannibal begins to sneak his hands beneath Will’s clothes. Will basks in his attentions, and wants them badly, but also knows that has to go. He has two classes today. And more importantly: dogs to feed. 

Still, he can hardly being himself to leave Hannibal’s embrace. The man peppers kisses across his cheeks, softly and reverently, and cards his fingers through his hair. 

“I still have to go.” Will says, the tick of the clock scraping against his nerves. Hannibal relents and Will feels bereft. He kisses Hannibal one last time, his lips stinging and tingling from abuse as Hannibal snakes his tongue into his mouth. He feels arousal start to pool low in his gut and knows that if he doesn’t leave now he never will. 

“Do you want me to get fired?” Will asks and Hannibal sighs, seemingly pensive, their foreheads resting together. 

“It would open up your schedule.” Hannibal says, wry and on the edge of a yawn. Will let’s him go with a gentle kiss. 

“I’ll see you Friday.” He says as he climbs out of the bed and searches the room for any last vestiges of his belongings. 

“At eight o’clock.” Hannibal says, already sounding half asleep. 

“Eight o’clock.” Will repeats softly, in place of goodbye, and exits Hannibal’s bedroom. 

Hannibal rolls into the space Will had occupied, inhaling the fevered sweetness left behind. He breathes deeply, luxuriating in it, while also knowing that he must keep a close watch on this. On Will.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Sorry for the delay. I came down with an undiagnosable illness that caused me to sleep 12-18 hours a day and shit blood for about two months. It was a bad scene. I'm about 75% better now, though. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will has the ludicrous impression that his students are looking at him. Like they know. Like everyone is trying to pretend they aren’t smiling at him. It nearly derails his first class multiple times. His lecture on Jean Dillard, a man who cut patterns into his victims in the northwestern United States in the 70’s, leaves his audience a lot more giggly and a lot less uncomfortable than it should have. He retires to his office immediately after, careful to make eye contact with absolutely no one as he makes his way. 

He settles into his cramped, cluttered, veritable closet of an office with a sigh and puts his head in his hands. He starts to think of Hannibal. He feels warm and alive, his skin strangely soft from the extensive pampering. He rubs his hands, his face. He hardly feels like himself. 

There is a slight soreness in his bottom that makes him blush and he tests out the depth of it, pressing down against his desk chair to feel the phantom twinge. He nearly jumps out of his skin when a knock sounds against his door. 

He knows it can only be one of two people. And he doesn’t want to see either of them. 

“Come in.” He tries for gruff and it misses the mark entirely. His amorous flush is telegraphed entirely in his voice. 

In steps Alana Bloom, and while Will is, as always, aware of her loveliness, she pales to grey scale at the very thought of Hannibal. 

Will fights the urge to punch himself. 

“How are you today?” He asks, shooting for normalcy and missing the mark entirely, as he generally shoots for dismissively rude. It is nowhere near his normal, and Alana looks almost as taken aback as he feels in the moment. 

“I’m good, Will.” She says, and it’s equally awkward and weighted. She stands in the doorway, one foot in the room and one foot out. 

“You’re here because they’re talking about me, aren’t you?” 

Will can see Alana’s instinct to deny it and press forward strategically give way under the acknowledgement that bullshitting a man with an empathy disorder is a futile endeavor. 

“Yes.” She says plainly. “If I may be frank with you, Will?” 

“Yeah. Why not?” He grunts out, feeling a headache begin to build in his temples. 

“Things along the lines of ‘I can’t believe Professor Addams got laid’.” 

“Professor Addams?” 

“Like the Addams Family.” She says matter-of-factly. “They think you’re spooky.” 

“Well they’re right.” Will says, hoping that will be that, but Alana is hardly so easily swayed. 

“There’s whispers that you were humming.” Alana says, almost conspiratorially, and Will barely restrains a sigh. “And I do have to say, Will, you are glowing.” 

Will fights the urge to say, it’s just lotion with 24 karat gold a child’s soul in in, because that would open up an avenue for more questions than he wants to answer. 

“Found your Morticia, after all?” 

Will snorts a little too forcefully. He starts to cough. 

“Kind of.” He eventually says, and Alana can tell that the conversation is over. She says a few more things, which Will brusquely dismisses, before going on her way. Will rubs his temples and grits his teeth. He feels his phone vibrate and takes it out. He sees Hannibal’s name on the screen, and grits his teeth in annoyance at the suffusion of warmth that pervades him. 

“Fuck.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will is in the process of dragging his body through the longest Friday of his life, when he finds himself veritably ambushed over the autopsy table. He’s supposed to be taking a look at Kelly Poirot, a 27 year old barista found with an entire live eel curled up in her intestines, and thinking about who the fuck would even do that, not avoiding the knowing glances of his coworkers. 

It’s not like anyone says anything, or breaks any kind of protocol. They are all professional adults, not regular drinking buddies. But they are curious, and they want to know, so Will schools himself to be as dour as possible without physically pouting. 

His classes feel like drudgery, his paperwork torture, and the minutes grind by. He wants to be with Hannibal more than he can ever remember wanting anything in his entire life. 

He also wants to run far away. 

On his drive home from work he feels a headache coming on and pops aspirin at a stop light. He feeds his dogs mechanically, walking through his own home like a ghost. He agonizes over whether to shave or not, what to wear. He has nothing that anyone would consider date-worthy, his priorities more fixed on clothing you can fix a boat motor in or be prepared to hunt in at any time, but he figures if Hannibal wasn’t looking to get into bed with some tasteless unfashionable white trash disaster he would have chosen someone else. 

Will finds a dark brown button up shirt with no oil stains on it, and settles for it with a sigh. He knows that if he doesn’t leave soon he’ll be late. He also knows that when somebody is cooking you dinner, it’s polite to bring something. Whether you bring wine or fruit or dessert, it’s a nice gesture. He has the feeling that anything he could possibly think to bring would only act like a splinter in whatever beautiful and delicate three act meal Hannibal was going to carefully present. 

'Want me to bring anything? I’m on my way.' 

Will texts anyway as he gets into his car, knowing what the answer will be. 

'Just yourself.' 

Hannibal replies and Will wonders what he’s in the middle of preparing. He can’t wait to taste it. He imagines Hannibal as he drives, the curve of his strong back as he cooks. He imagines his deft hands as he prepares their meal, sure and decisive as they create. 

Will bites his lip, continuing his drive, fighting the urge to turn around and speed away in the other direction. He feels his heart beating fast. 

The closer he draws to Hannibal’s house, the more anxiety he feels take hold. He agonizes over how to greet Hannibal. Does he shake his hand? Do they kiss? Are they dating? Are they just fucking? What’s the protocol, here? 

“What are we?” Will groans out, his voice bouncing off the inside of his empty car. As you might have expected, it has no answer to give him. 

Will pulls into Hannibal’s driveway, and sits in his car for about five minutes, fighting the urge to bash his head against the window. He pulls himself out of his old beat up car, walking up to Hannibal’s front door with a gallow’s swagger, and on the verge of fleeing. He rings the doorbell and waits, almost unable to breathe. He’s afraid he’s sweat through his shirt. 

It turns out that all of his agonizing over how to greet Hannibal was ultimately pointless. He has barely gotten through the door before Hannibal has enveloped him in his arms. Will feels all the tension bleed from him as Hannibal holds him close. He tucks his head against his neck without thinking about it. Feeling one of Hannibal’s hands idly tap against his lower back, almost too low to be decent, sends a soft warmth thrumming through him. He melts into a rhythm and inhales deeply, feeling lost in Hannibal. 

He hardly realizes that they are swaying together, almost dancing to the soft classical music which is wafting gently from Hannibal’s kitchen. 

When Hannibal takes his chin in hand, angling him for a kiss, Will feels himself open beneath it without a thought. Hannibal kisses him so softly and so sweetly that he feels as if he might disappear into it entirely. 

“You feel warm.” Hannibal says. 

“Well, that’s one thing that’s not exactly a mystery.” Will offers and Hannibal says nothing, leading him into the kitchen by the hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will watches, glass of wine in hand, avariciously drinking in the lines of Hannibal’s body as he prepares their meal. Hannibal of course had explained it all to him, from the farm the meat had been raised on to the history of the sauce it would be in, but Will had hardly heard any of it. The quirk of Hannibal’s lips and the thickness of his deft fingers and wiry forearms had captivated him. Will watched the play of muscle, wondering at himself, and this sudden visceral attraction to another man. 

Hannibal’s quiet grace and power, a man always in control of his environment, is simply too much for Will. He envies him a little even as he settles behind him, wrapping around him as he sears something in a hot pan. 

“Are you feeling neglected, my dear?” Hannibal asks and Will bites his shoulder through his shirt, leaving a wet mark behind on the expensive material. He allows himself to be tucked against Hannibal’s side as the man deftly cooks one handed. 

“You’re a wonderfully needy thing, aren’t you?” 

Will sticks his tongue in Hannibal’s ear by way of response. Hannibal unceremoniously takes a handful of his ass. Will splutters, gasping inelegantly as the older man takes a languorous grope. 

“You can have one of those at any time.” Hannibal informs him, teasingly didactic. “All you have to do is ask.” 

Will glares up at him through his eyelashes, the effect of it lost entirely as he leans back into the crude hand cupping him. Hannibal smirks down at him. 

Their kiss is explosive, Will groans into it, wrapping himself around Hannibal as Hannibal’s attention is turned entirely away from the stove. He instead takes to pulling Will apart, kiss by kiss. Will gives as good as he gets. When Hannibal breaks apart from him for only an instant, to breathe, Will takes his bottom lip between his teeth and pulls him flush against him. 

Hannibal’s answering growl vibrates in his bones. 

They are pulled apart by the smell of burnt meat. Hannibal lurches away from him with a jolt, desperately trying to save his creation. 

“Fuck it.” Will says, pressing against him as seductively as he can manage. “We’ll order pizza later.” 

He is almost too horny to delight in Hannibal’s look of sudden horror. 

Almost. 

“Ok. Fine. Later you can suck goat cheese off of my nipples if you want.” He offers instead and Hannibal looks intrigued, but Will can tell that his offense has not yet been forgiven. 

Will takes Hannibal’s jaw in hand, revelling in the soft scrape of barely there stubble against his palm. He kisses him softly, along his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. 

“Usually when I invite a guest to dinner, I deliver.” 

“Take a walk on the wild side, Dr. Lecter.” Will says and Hannibal shakes his head with a soft little fond sigh. 

“You are quite a remarkable creature.” 

“I’m some kind of creature.” Will answers and can hardly finish as he suddenly finds himself hoisted on the counter, legs akimbo, with nowhere to go but around Hannibal’s waist. 

His heart pounds as Hannibal leans over him, looking at him with the gaze of a predator.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Before Will can think Hannibal is upon him, unbuttoning his shirt, kissing and biting his way down his chest. He stops at one of his nipples and Will is momentarily disturbed from his haze, wondering what Hannibal is about to do, when his lips close around the little bud. 

Will starts, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. He tangles his hands in Hannibal’s hair as the man bites and licks and sucks at his chest, lavishing him with soft nips and wet kisses. He writhes in pleasure, suddenly awash in cool air as his pants slide down his thighs. Hannibal makes quick work of his outfit. Will gasps as his naked toes catch on the fine fabric of hannibal’s shirt. He drags his ankle bones against it, revealing in the luxurious fabric and muscular man beneath it as he is spread out on the counter. 

Will looks down as Hannibal wraps a large hand around his throbbing cock, and his eyes nearly cross. He wraps his own hands around Hannibal’s forearms, delighting in the feeling of the hair there as he slides his hands up to Hannibal’s biceps. Will squeezes, eyes widening at the hard muscle he feels there. 

Hannibal eyes his shock and delight with a little smirk. 

“You know, I don’t think you’ve been entirely honest with me, Dr. Lecter.” Will says and Hannibal grinds himself against his sensitive hole. Will bites his lip at feeling the hard cock encased in expensive material slide against him. 

“Have I not, Will?” Hannibal asks and Will shakes his head, even as he arches into another delightful little grind. 

“You’re hiding something under all these clothes.” Will says and Hannibal concedes to his point with another slow little torturous grind. 

“You should have looked your fill when we showered together.” Hannibal says flatly and watches as Will pinks from his chest to the tips of his ears. 

“I sense that you were feeling a bit bashful?” 

Will says nothing, hands still wrapped around the wiry muscle of Hannibal’s biceps. Hannibal kisses him slow and long and sweet and he melts beneath it. 

Will nearly screams as without warning Hannibal has knelt before him and taken his cock all the way into his mouth. Will whimpers as Hannibal swallows him deep and pops off with a lewd groan only to begin to tease his shaft with his wicked tongue. 

“H-Hannibal!” Will croaks as the man alternates between exquisite suction and gentle teasing, tonguing his slit with playful little licks. Will buries his hands in his hair, not forcing or maneuvering him, just seeking purchase as Hannibal takes one of his balls into his mouth. 

Will’s entire body shivers. 

He lays back on the counter, blissed out and amazed as Hannibal brings him closer and closer to orgasm. His cock throbs and he feels arousal burning in his core, tightening and tightening and tightening. 

“God!” Will gasps as Hannibal takes him into the root and hums. 

“Han-han I’m…” He tries but the words won’t come. He lets out a low whine when Hannibal responds by redoubling his efforts, the vibrations of his humming reverberating all the way up Will’s spine. 

Will comes with a strangled gasp, sprawled out naked against a luxurious kitchen counter, the marble beneath him warm from his skin, and Hannibal’s mouth around him. Will’s eyes nearly cross as he feels Hannibal’s throat working to greedily swallow every drop of his seed. 

His chest heaves. He groans as Hannibal releases his cock with a soft pop. 

Will can hardly open his eyes. He bonelessly allows Hannibal to maneuver him until he’s sitting up and allowing the older man to bear the full brunt of his weight. He presses tiny, blissed out, appreciative kisses to his neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt so that he can press a reverent kiss to his Adam’s apple and the base of his neck. 

“Will…” Hannibal starts, as if to lightly admonish him, but Will pays him no mind. He sucks light kiss after kiss along the older man’s jaw, rubbing appreciatively against his little bit of stubble like a contented cat. 

“You’re sure good at that.” Will mumbles, almost to himself, a little bit of southern drawl poking through. Hannibal huffs a pleased little laugh, enraptured as Will wraps himself around him. “But when are you going to let me take care of you?” 

Will grinds a little against the hard ridge of Hannibal’s dick in his pants. He watches as Hannibal’s composure slips for an instant, his plush mouth slack. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” Will says between little kisses, his hole fluttering as the fine fabric slides against his rim. He feels the coiled strength in Hannibal’s body and drags his hands along his broad shoulders and down his arms with relish, letting the pads of his fingers luxuriate in his arm hair. 

“As you wish.” Says Hannibal, and Will let’s out a little yelp as he’s lifted right off the counter, and squarely pressed against Hannibal’s hard cock. He unwinds himself and placing his feet on the cold tile is both sobering and frigid. He quickly walks out of the kitchen, naked and glorious. Hannibal admires the sway of his hips and the shifting of his pert little bottom as he goes. 

Will beckons for him from the doorway and Hannibal pointedly stares at his ass, allowing all his desire and appreciation to color his gaze. He watches as Will pinks with delight, flushing all the way down to his swollen, kiss-bitten nipples. 

Hannibal fights the urge to take him right there on the floor, like an animal, and instead presses a hot kiss to the nape of his neck before leading him to his bedroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Inside Hannibal hardly has a chance to regain control of the situation before Will has two hands on his chest, and has pushed him down on the bed. Hannibal’s hands find their way to the man’s waist as he settles across him, right where he would need to be get a nice hard fuck. 

“You know, Dr. Lecter?” Will begins as he grinds down just a little and Hannibal’s hands slide to ass, pulling his cheeks apart so he can get more friction. “My whole life, I always wished that the women I slept with would take the lead a little bit more.” 

Will can feel the anger there, even as the older man successfully smooths it away, even as the jealousy disappears beneath his mask, smoothing to nothing like ripples on the surface of a placid lake, Will feels it, revels in it, and files it away for a day the urge to play with fire crackles under his skin. He grinds down and takes to Hannibal’s tie, undoing it and throwing it aside. 

Will watches Hannibal’s momentary panic at being undressed so abruptly, his expensive garments he puts so much love into roughly cast aside, the fine fabric rumpling beneath him. Will takes to his shirt buttons with the same carelessness, not exactly angling to mangle them, but considering the distinct possibility a legitimate bonus. 

His hands falter as Hannibal’s chest is revealed, the hard plains of it, distinct musculature, softness, and rich thatch of hair catch him off guard. Will reaches down to touch, his hands almost shyly ghosting along Hannibal’s pectorals, the thick hair tickling his palms. 

Hannibal grabs his wrists, pressing him against him fully. Will’s eyelashes flutter closed. 

“Touch me, Will.” Hannibal commands, voice rough and low, and Will responds instantly, his hands take to Hannibal’s chest with vigor, scraping against his skin and luxuriating in the feel of his chest hair. His hands slide ever downward, toward the thick ridge in his slacks, becoming increasingly less bold as they do so. He looks down at Hannibal, suddenly shy and unsure. He has, after all, never done this before. 

“Are we going to…?” Will begins, unable to finish properly, and he let’s out a little gasp as he is suddenly flipped onto his back. He feels something hot and dizzying spread through him at the display of strength and melts beneath the decisive hands maneuvering him. 

“Am I going to fuck you, Will?” Hannibal asks, low and somehow still prim. Will openly gapes beneath the older man, mouth hanging open. Hannibal’s wicked smirk, even as it can only be seen mostly in the depths of his eyes, makes his cock jump.

Hannibal watches with perverse delight as the younger man flushes beneath him. 

“I...I…” Will tries and Hannibal presses a searing kiss to the corner of his mouth. Will turns into it, always seeking more, even despite himself. 

“If you wish.” Says Hannibal, in between pressing kisses to his ear. “It can be a lot to take in.” 

Will snorts roughly, childishly. Even as Hannibal looks at him, entirely unimpressed, he pauses to touch his lips to his skin, reveling in the feel of the younger man beneath him. He knows that this initial shyness, this trepidation, will not last. Soon Hannibal knows he will have Will just as he likes him, begging for his cock, hungry for it, wailing as the expensive finery he’s draped in is ripped apart and splattered with his seed. 

Hannibal savors Will’s indecision, the notes of trepidation in his scent. 

“Is it a lot to take in?” 

Hannibal merely takes Will’s hand and presses it square against his cock, where it is trapped beneath the fine fabric of his pants. He watches Will closely as he shyly explores his length, his hand closing around it, and realization dawns slowly. 

“Jesus Christ.” Will mumbles allowed, squeezing a little harder than he meant to around Hannibal’s impressive length, and feeling his answering growl vibrating in his bones. He opens beneath Hannibal, instinctively bowing to the predator above him, prepared to appease and receive whatever is given to him. 

Hannibal bites a bruising kiss against his neck and Will whimpers, grinding up against him with vigor. He reaches for Hannibal, undoing his pants and peeling them off clumsily as Hannibal applies his wicked mouth to his collarbones and bite his way down to his pebbled nipples. 

Will sighs as Hannibal spreads his legs with purpose and his cock leaks. Hannibal’s fingers spread his ass cheeks apart, teasing him maddeningly as he sucks on one of his nipples. 

“I want it.” Will breathes, body shaking under Hannibal’s ministrations, back arching against his extravagant bed sheets. Hannibal pauses in playing with his pleasantly aching nipples, though his hands still knead at his ass cheeks, fingers coming teasingly close to his hole. 

“What do you want, Will?” Hannibal asks, voice barely modulated as he digs his nails into the soft flesh of Will’s asscheeks just enough for a little bite to register. Will’s chest heaves. 

“I…” Will starts, he swallows once and then again. Hannibal wonders if he’ll get him to say it. They breathe against each other, panting in sync, sweat mingling between them. 

“I want you...to fuck me, Dr. Lecter.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Hannibal reels momentarily from his exquisite plea, spoken softly, but with deadly conviction. Hannibal bends to kiss him, and their mouths meet in a searing blaze. They rock against each other with abandon. When Hannibal leans over him, reaching for lube, Will teasingly nips at his chest, rubbing against his chest. The thick masculine scent of his arousal and sweat momentarily paralyzes Will, who groans, almost as if he can taste it on his tongue. 

“I am absurdly aware of you.” Will says and Hannibal slides down his body, pausing to kiss him and slide a pillow beneath his hips before settling between his legs. 

Will feels the absurd urge to cover himself. He feels open and exposed, on the edge of danger as Hannibal openly gazes appreciatively at his opening. Will can see the thoughts flickering through the older man’s mind, and feel them against his skin. He shivers. 

“Please.” He says, simply, honestly, and almost brokenly. 

Hannibal obliges him, his breath hitching as he slides in a single slicked up finger and feels Will’s tight heat envelop him. He moves slowly, carefully, feels Will accommodate him before adding a second finger and reveling in the slick stretch. 

The older man takes his time, angling lightly for Will’s prostate, grazing it just enough to make Will’s body hum in delight as he’s fingered. It is only when he feels Will’s hole swallowing him up, hungrily clinging to his fingers with every slide that he adds a third. 

Will groans, partially out of discomfort, as he is stretched beyond what he has ever felt before. 

“Your fingers are thick.” He complains, knowing that if this is to happen, he must be able to take something far thicker. He knows that Hannibal is thinking it too, and allows his complaint to melt into a groan as Hannibal gently teases his prostate between two fingers. 

They breathe together as Will slowly opens beneath Hannibal, panting and shaking as he grows used to a less gentle fuck and more and more pressure. It is only as Will meets his thrusts, grinding down to avariciously ride his fingers and demand more and harder that Hannibal withdraws them, and starts to slick up his cock. 

Will watches through lowered lashes, propped up on luxurious pillows as Hannibal meticulously slicks his thick cock. It glistens, twitching in his fist as he prepares it. It is surely not as big as the colossally terrifying penises Will has seen in porn, and he momentarily breathes a sigh of relief as he looks at the length of it, from the tip to the heavy balls, but he is still slightly disbelieving that all of it will fit inside him. 

A hand on his thigh brings him back to himself. Hannibal’s hands look dark and impossibly large, almost red against his white thigh. Will’s eyes trace the veins in his lightly furred forearm, eventually across his chest to settle on Hannibal’s eyes, which nearly burn red in the dim light. 

He watches, feeling almost outside himself, as the older man maneuvers one of his legs over his shoulder, so his foot and ankle dangle in the air. Hannibal has his cock in hand, pointed like a weapon, and Will feels anticipation and fear pool in his gut as the fat head of Hannibal’s erection presses against his loosened hole, which gapes, aching and cold in the open air. 

“Do it.” Will says, eyes closed tight, body uselessly attempting to brace itself for sensations it cannot even begin to anticipate. “Please.” 

Will bites down hard on his bottom lip as the head of Hannibal’s uncircumsized cock presses into him. 

Will is not wholly sure exactly what he expected, but it was definitely not this. He feels stretched to capacity, stretched bursting, and so incredibly full that he can hardly process it. He can hardly breathe. He can’t think. He lays, limp and quaking as Hannibal slides into him slowly and gently, his entire universe narrowing to where he is stretched around the older man’s cock. 

Will feels his heart pound and suddenly Hannibal has stopped moving, stopped sliding, stopped relentlessly pressing forward. He feels Hannibal pressed flush against him, impossibly close, his heavy balls flush against his sensitive skin, and whimpers as Hannibal presses a tiny kiss to his leg, right where it hangs over his shoulder. 

Hannibal barely moves at all, rocking gently in the direction of where he had found Will’s prostate earlier. He grinds low and long with small, calculated movements, his powerful hips scraping against Will as he bears down just enough to watch Will’s face screw up in pleasure. 

“I...I...ooh.” Will tries and its melts into a little groan as Hannibal twitches deep within him, responding as his hole squeezes around him involuntarily. The older man stutters within him, muttering what might be a low curse in a language Will cannot understand. Will avariciously absorbs the change in his features, feels those strong hands dig into his hips, the nails biting, and does it again, giving Hannibal’s thick length a decisive little squeeze. 

“Will.” Hannibal breathes and Will can’t help but smile a smug little smile, which is wiped off his face as Hannibal suddenly nudges against his prostate. His head falls back, his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens on a gasp. Hannibal withdraws only to slide right back in. Will keens as he falls upon him, sucking bruises into the pale curve of his throat. 

“Please!” Will begs and Hannibal fucks him just a little bit harder, gripping him as he slides in to the hilt. Will leaks steadily against his stomach, cock twitching as Hannibal wraps his hand around him and begins to stroke in time with his thrusts. Will lets out a single, embarrassingly high pitched little wail as he leaks steadily in Hannibal’s fist, and squeezes down on the larger man’s cock. 

Hannibal makes a single last powerful thrust before spilling inside him. Will gasps at the sensation, feeling like he might burst even he feels his own balls tighten and orgasm rips clear through him. His world narrows only to the sensation of the man above him, who thrusts weakly even as he comes. Will clings to him. 

The pair breathe together, sweat slick and strung tight with elation only to be overcome with exhaustion. Will drags his cheek against Hannibal’s seeking a small comfort on the emotional and physical maelstrom, and Hannibal leans into him. Their lips meet in a series of soft, sated little kisses which pinken Will all the way down to his nipples as they stir soft warmth inside him. 

Hannibal slides free of him with a soft pop and Will groans. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to walk straight tomorrow?” He asks as the older man flops beside him, wrapping around him immediately, so that there is hardly a place where they don’t touch. 

“Straight? No.” Hannibal replies and the appraising look Will levels him hardly contains any heat at all. The older man kisses it away with a soft little nip and gentle nuzzle. 

They rest together silently for a long while, until the sweat and come cool on their bodies, the sensation sticky and unpleasant. 

“We should clean up.” Will says and rises, holding out a hand for Hannibal to take. Hannibal takes it instantly, and follows him to the bathroom with the most awestruck expression.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

“That’s new.” Will says as he steps into Hannibal’s shower and starts to mess with the veritable gallery of strange nobs casually, regardless of the fact that he has no idea what any of them do. He nods toward a little black bottle on the ledge. Hannibal merely steps in behind him, careless as his lover spins knobs haphazardly. Hannibal bites his shoulder with soft little nips. Will shivers as those sharp teeth drag over his flesh. 

“Is this one carbonated?” Will asks as a faintly blue stream splatters across his shoulder. 

“After a fashion.” Hannibal replies, and takes over for him, spinning knobs in a combination only he understands to produce pleasantly warm and faintly scented jets of water which spray them from above and beside them. He watches as Will revels in it, and takes advantage of his distraction to reach for the little black bottle. He spreads it between his hands and feels it warm, and presses them right where cum has dried on Will’s stomach as he arches against the spray. 

Hannibal delights in Will leaning against his hands, instinctively seeking comfort in his touch, and a thrill runs through his as his lover registers the sensation of the shower oil and gasps. His shiver vibrates in Hannibal’s bones. 

“What-?” Will begins and words fail him as Hannibal slides his hands up his chest and neck, spreading the oil, which tingles and warms him irresistibly. 

When Hannibal bends to kiss him Will can’t help but open beneath it as his skin is stroked, possessive hands sliding to grasp his ass cheeks and pulling them apart to expose his sensitive hole to the spray.   
Will gasps, feeling his abused hole gape and flutter from the earlier treatment as the warm spray teases it and Hannibal’s fingers inch ever closer and closer. 

“I...uh…” The beginning of Will’s sentence is bitten off in a nervous laugh as one of Hannibal’s ruthless fingers comes dangerously close to touching him just where he thinks he cannot feasibly take anymore. 

“Yes?” Hannibal asks, all false innocence, wet hair plastered to the side of his head and Will can’t help but laugh a little louder and press a kiss to the older man’s lips. The absurdity of it all shakes him, just as it makes him feel buoyant. He pulls away from the kiss as he feels one of Hannibal’s slick fingers right against his rim and looks at the older man archly. 

“You’re not sticking anything else in me tonight.” Will says flatly and he can tell it takes Hannibal a moment to recover from his candor. It is the merest of seconds. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hannibal responds and Will sighs as that finger circles his hole barely light enough even to touch. 

“Liar.” Will says without any heat as he rests against the larger man, trusting him not to go any further than teasing. Will rests his head against the side of Hannibal’s neck in the spray. Hannibal’s hands slowly slide up his back to rest in less scandalous places.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Lucia Di Lammermoor may not be one of Hannibal’s favorite operas, but he still finds enjoyment in it. Tonight he cannot help but feel that unused seat beside him feels remarkably, well, empty. He looks at the unutilized seat beside him archly, with a little scowl, as though it is out to personally offend him, and the person he wants to materialize in it will magically appear if he simply gets cross enough. 

He sighs and turns his attention back to the opera, attempting to lose himself within it and finding it all a little dull and flat.  
\----

Will sits on the floor with his dogs, not doing much of anything at all. His pack has slowly encircled him, until he is almost ensconced entirely in their warmth. At least half of them are asleep, and he twitches as doggie half-snores tickle his toes. He keeps his phone in one hand, playing with it, almost juvenilely, as he looks at nothing much at all. 

He wants to call Hannibal, or text him, or anything. They hadn’t made exact plans to meet again after he left Hannibal’s house the last time, and while he knows it is irrational, a part of him can’t help but be unsure that the older man wants to continue seeing him, or to continue doing whatever nameless thing they are currently taking part in. 

“Fuck.” Will mumbles to himself and watches a couple doggie ears twitch, but none of their rests be truly disturbed. He opens his phone and steels himself to get texting.  
\-------- 

Hannibal feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and knows that it is quite unspeakably rude, and has considered goring other patrons for less, but decided to chance a look anyway, just to see who it may be. 

When he sees Will Graham’s name pop up leaving the theater is hardly a conscious decision. He chooses a rather underutilized side hallway, which almost no one will be in as the performance is in full swing. He opens Will’s text with a little smile. 

_Hello ___

It reads, and Hannibal can’t help the odd thrill that runs through him at the simple text. He is unaware of the smile on his face. 

_Hello, Yourself._

\--- 

Will sends back a 

_What are you up to?_

entirely too fast and feels almost embarrassed about it, only to have a reply just as quickly. 

_I am currently attending the opera. Do you enjoy opera?_

Will hopes that’s invitation. He really has no opinion on opera one way or the other, but he has a very strong opinion about seeing Hannibal again. And if that involves opera, he is more than ready to see the opera. He quickly tells Hannibal he’s never been only for Hannibal to respond in the exact way he had been hoping for. 

_I could be persuaded to take you sometime if you’d like._  


Will smiles, beaming and bright, and quickly restrains himself. 

_Last I recall you don’t require much persuasion to take me anywhere, Dr. Lecter._

\--- 

Hannibal can’t help but chuckle a little, just barely, as he reads what his lover has sent. Images of Will’s naked body, curved and bowed and beautiful as he is fucked and played with assault him and Hannibal allows them to play behind his eyes as he considers his next message. 

\--- 

_I would suggest refraining from calling me Dr. Lecter when I take you out._

_Can I call you Hanni?_

_Will…_

_Hanni-dearest?_

_…_

_Han Han?_

_I was going to get the best seats for us but now I think I will get a front row seat for myself and allow you to stand next to me._

_Kinky, Dr. Lecter._

_Maybe I shall use you as a footstool._

_I love it when you talk dirty to me._

Hannibal can see several avenues unfold before him, and a number of ways to respond. He is in the midst of deliberating when Will saves him the trouble. 

_Is there some kind of dress code for the opera?_

_If you want to ask me what I’m wearing you needn’t be coy, Will._

Winston has snuggled up beside Will and Will pauses in lazily petting him when he sees Hannibal’s message. He feels hot and light but anchored irrevocably to the moment, Hannibal’s presence a palpable thing.  


_What are you wearing?_

He sends. 

Hannibal begins his hunt for a full length mirror.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

It isn’t until he looks around at the absolute mess that is his house that Will realizes the gravity of the decision he just made on almost a whim, without even thinking about it. 

He and Hannibal were supposed to have a lunch date, and one that Will found he was looking forward to more than he wanted to admit. They were supposed to have a simple picnic together, in a place of Hannibal’s choosing, and enjoy the beautiful day together. Will had been been feeling particularly stressed, with a near constant headache for almost two days, but he still really really wanted to see Hannibal, even if it was just to lay his head in his lap and sleep. For this reason he had invited him over, despite the fact that he had a mess of dogs, a mess of a house, and a mess of a kitchen with nothing but beer, ketchup, bread, frozen dinners, and Folgers in it. 

Will can imagine Hannibal walking right and walking right out. 

With only about an hour before he arrives, and one hand on his head, Will takes to trying to arrange and clean and organize or something, pretty futilely, spending at least a quarter of the time looking for a duster he’s not even sure he has. 

Will ludicrously imagines Hannibal walking in to find him standing on his tip toes and dusting, in the natural costume which would follow, as he listlessly shuffles papers around and attempts to maintain some kind of order. Hannibal’s home looks like it was taken out of out some particularly morbid magazine for the absurdly wealthy, and while Will has no illusions that he will be able to create something on par in under an hour, but maybe he can do something with the half finished vacuum laying in the middle of the floor? 

Will is thinking of how he could possibly move it without disturbing the system he has for keeping track of what parts go where and what has already been done, when he hears three loud knocks on the door. He sees his dogs perk up their ears in curiosity, as they are unused to visitors. 

Will feels exhausted, hot, and sweaty, from his and largely unsuccessful frantic cleaning spree, and wishes he would have thought to change or maybe push back his hair or something before Hannibal arrived. Or maybe take an aspirin. His head is pounding. 

His pack is too well trained to crowd the door and try to force their way out, but they are definitely watching as Will opens the door to reveal a well dressed Hannibal carrying a charmingly picturesque picnic basket. His confident smile dissipates entirely upon laying eyes on Will. 

“Will, you look quite unwell.” 

“Well I feel incredible.” Will deadpans, with far more bite than he intended and shrinks back a little, taking Hannibal’s hand awkwardly in apology to guide him into his home. Hannibal immediately places the basket on the floor beside them and pulls will into his arms. 

“My head feels like it’s going to pop off of my neck.” Will mutters into Hannibal’s broad chest as he is cradled, strong arms wrapping around him and the undoubtedly masculine scent of him making something deep within Will settle and sing. He presses his nose to Hannibal’s neck and inhales before he realizes what he’s doing. 

Hannibal hums. 

Will only continues to nuzzle and scent him, mindlessly seeking comfort as his head pounds. 

“You smell good.” Will whispers and feels Hannibal squeeze him just a little bit tighter. 

“Come, let’s take care of you.” Hannibal says and Will takes one little last lingering sniff, and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw before breaking away to lead Hannibal to the kitchen.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission for the lovely PlasticBling, who gets me on a spiritual level. Thanks doll! Fascination will update Tuesdays. Contact me at writtenbyizzy@gmail.com for info on commissions.

Will is not an easy patient. Despite being weak as a kitten and his head pounding he will not stay still. He argues with Hannibal about lying down, and fights him about allowing himself to be taken care of in every conceivable way. The older man had instructed him to remain in bed as he prepares something for him, and instead Will had followed him down to the kitchen and half pressed himself against his back as he cooks, trying pathetically to help with anything at all even as he leans against the counter for support. 

“Will, you need your rest.” 

“Nu-uh.” Will protests, brattily half ironic, as he rubs his sweaty cheek against Hannibal’s back, the fine fabric of his shirt like a cool caress. 

“Indeed. You must rest.” 

Will sticks out his tongue and even though he’s fairly sure the man can’t see it, something in the tightening of his posture tells him that he knows. 

“I will not tell you again, Will.” Hannibal says, calm yet firm, and the younger man scoffs. 

“What are you? My da-AD?” Will’s snark is bitten off in a surprised yelp as he finds himself being held bridal style in the blink of an eye. 

He looks down at the floor and up at Hannibal with bleary feverish confusion. 

“Wow.” He says lamely as he rests his head against Hannibal’s neck and chin. Even sick as he is, his voice is colored with just the barest tinge of arousal. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Will mutters into his neck as he is carried. 

“And why ever not?” Hannibal asks, taking the opportunity to savor Will’s scent, his skin, his sweat, and the illness beneath. He is stopped in his tracks by the scent of it, breathing deeply, his desire to protect Will and his interest in seeing how it may develop clashing minutely. He is pulled from his thoughts as Will takes the opportunity to nip at his earlobe. 

“Because now you aren’t allowed to put me down.” 

“I am not allowed?” 

Will shakes his head and Hannibal can’t help but smile as he unceremoniously plops Will onto his bed, resulting in another startled squawk. 

“Rude, Hannibal.” Will mutters as he rolls himself in blankets and two of his dogs immediately launch themselves onto the bed to snuggle against their master. 

“I did not hear you complain as I carried you across the threshold.” Hannibal responds, and watches as an embarrassed flush accompanies Will’s illness induced one. It is more attractive than it has any right to be and disappears tantalizingly beneath the collar of his T-shirt. 

“It’s not as if I asked you to carry me.” 

“Perhaps not, but I do remember the words “now you aren’t allowed to put me down” leaving your mouth.” 

“You’re the worst.” 

“Thank you.” Hannibal says as smugly as he can and Will can’t help but look at his forearms, exposed as they are by his rolled up sleeves. The thought of those arms carrying him sends a far more pleasant warmth coursing through him. “Now is hardly the time for that, Will.” 

“Bastard.” 

Hannibal only quirks an eyebrow. 

“Don’t you have some monologue prepared about how a solid fucking from a big strong man has been known to cure head colds in several countries?” 

“Is that how you see me, Will?” 

Before Hannibal can catch the true beauty of his throbbing blush, Will has cocooned himself completely in blankets and turned away from him. 

“Go make my soup.” He mumbles. 

“As you wish.”


End file.
